


Physician, Heal Thyself

by madmadeleine



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Post Star Trek: Into Darkness, all the feels, post STID, these two idiots I s2g
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-18
Updated: 2014-03-18
Packaged: 2018-01-16 05:42:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1334182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madmadeleine/pseuds/madmadeleine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ever since Jim died, Leonard McCoy has been two steps from a breakdown. He's been so focused on Jim's recovery that there hasn't been time for anything else. He'll be fine. He has to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Physician, Heal Thyself

Leonard McCoy stared at Jim Kirk’s sleeping form in the biobed.

It was done, then. Over twenty-four hours after Jim had died, _died_ , he’d done all he could do. All that was left was to monitor and keep up Jim’s life support until he woke up.

God, he was tired. He sank into the chair at Jim’s bedside and rubbed his eyes.

Spock had come in the second he’d been allowed, exhausted but still triumphant. Uhura had been at his side, and they’d walked out together, Uhura providing quiet support as Spock gave in to the utter fatigue that McCoy supposed plagued even Vulcans after an ordeal of that kind. Spock had leaned on her, just outside the door, while Leonard pretended not to see.

The Terran doctors were damned fools, although Leonard supposed he couldn’t blame them for being suspicious of Jim’s comatose state without a direct cause. He’d kept the trick with Khan’s blood off the record. He didn’t want anyone else playing God like he had.

He looked back at Jim. He looked so small, so innocent, so _human_ , lying in that bed. Starfleet captains weren’t supposed to look that way. The hero of the Federation wasn’t supposed to look that way. Jim Kirk was invincible. He was like one of the old Greek gods. He was never intended for a biobed and an unknown future.

Leonard slipped into a tenuous sleep, still holding Jim’s hand. The nurse came in, intending to shoo McCoy out, but tiptoed out once she saw the two of them.

 

The grace period couldn’t last long.

“Go home, Doctor McCoy. Get some sleep. He’ll still be here,” the nurse said, sympathy in her eyes. Leonard didn’t want anyone’s pity.

“I can sleep here, dammit.” Well, that was a lie. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Jim in that body bag. But that was beside the point. “I have to monitor him, I have to be the one to do it, I’m his primary physician, his emergency contact, you can see it in the records…” He was starting to ramble, he could feel it.

“You cannot be both, Doctor McCoy.” Spock was at his elbow, of all people. _When did he get here?_ Leonard thought. “I will watch over Jim while you rest and decide whether you wish to keep vigil as his attending physician or as his friend. You have done all you can for the time being. You cannot be an effective physician or friend without sleep; I am quite well rested and can keep him company.”

The nurse looked at him. “He’s right. I can’t let you stay. Five hours. Come back in five hours. I guarantee you he’ll still be here.”

Leonard stood there, swaying ever so slightly as he watched Spock disappear into Jim’s room with the nurse.

He went home- there wasn’t really an alternative at this point, and he was bone-tired. He stumbled into his cold, dark apartment and, after fumbling around for his medkit, administered himself a nice benzodiazepine cocktail. He fell asleep on top of his blankets, trying not to feel the emptiness of the space next to him.

 

Leonard came back in exactly five hours, eyes bloodshot and face unshaven.

“Five hours,” he told the nurse dully. “You said five hours.”

Spock looked up at him from the chair. “Have you made your decision, Doctor McCoy?” he asked mildly as he stood to leave.

Leonard sighed. “I’m staying. If you have to pull me, fine. Do whatever you have to do. I’m staying with Jim.”

The nurse consulted her clipboard. “Doctor Boyce will be primary, then, and you can assist.”

“Great.” Leonard took the chair Spock had vacated and immersed himself in paperwork.

When the nurse left with Spock, he took Jim’s hand and bit back tears. PADD forgotten, he held Jim’s hand until visiting hours were over. Then he went home, drugged himself up again, and tried to ignore the nightmares.

It became a habit, Leonard and Jim and Doctor Boyce. Boyce was a competent doctor, who didn’t condescend and was rarely even present, trusting Leonard’s ability to monitor Jim’s vitals. Sometimes, the two sat and compared cases.

More often than not, however, Leonard dealt with the inevitable paperwork, checked on the Enterprise’s repairs with the steady stream of visitors from the crew, and refused all of the Admiralty’s requests for briefings.

“Captain Kirk is still comatose and I am his primary physician.” A little lie wouldn’t hurt anyone.

Sometimes, when he thought he could stand it, he looked at Jim’s face. It was unshaven, Leonard thought dully. Jim would hate that. He asked the nurse for a razor and leaned over the sleeping form.

Quietly, he lathered up Jim’s face and dragged the razor along the left side. Then the right. No response.

He’d watched Jim do this once, one of those lazy Academy mornings. Leonard had even done this exact thing before, shaving Jim carefully and kissing him slowly after every stroke.

The tears came, unbidden but inevitable. They splashed on the blanket, on Jim’s cheekbones, on the collar of Leonard’s shirt.

“Come back to me,” he whispered thickly. “Come back, Jim, please.”

“Dammit!” Leonard raised his voice. “Wake up! It’s been a week and a half! Please! I need to know you’re alive!”

His voice broke. The razor fell to the floor. Leonard sobbed quietly into Jim’s still form until sleep dragged him under.

 

* * *

 

After Leonard broke down, he’d gone home and showered, then put on his uniform and started acting like a goddamn doctor.

“May I take over, Doctor Boyce?”

“You’ve been doing all the work anyway, you damned idiot.” Boyce clapped him on the shoulder. “He’ll be alright. You’ll see.”

 It paid off. Leonard’s nightmares were kept at bay while he worked towards Jim’s recovery instead of wallowing like a melodramatic idiot.

More importantly, Jim opened his eyes three days later.

Everything, all those pent-up accusations and exclamations and prayers, wanted to come out, but Leonard was being professional. He was a doctor, after all, and he had to be strong.

“Oh, don’t be so melodramatic; you were barely dead.”

One week, seventeen visits by crew members, and three escape attempts later, he takes Jim home, and they fall into bed.

Jim wakes up in the middle of the night, heaving and covered in sweat.

“Bones,” he murmurs, “Can you… I just…”

Leonard folds his arms around Jim without another word, and the two sink back into the bed. In a few minutes, Jim’s breathing deepens and evens out; Leonard doesn’t go back to sleep. He brushes his fingers over Jim’s wrist, relishing the pulse, and keeps vigil until morning.

God knows he doesn’t sleep anyway.

He knows he doesn’t have the right to his nightmares. He’s not the one who was comatose for weeks, who is now likely experiencing PTSD. Unfortunately, he can't just wish them away, and sometimes it feels like Jim isn’t the only one who died that day.

But he has no right, and he has to heal Jim before he can even think of himself, so he brushes it off and keeps as still as he can while the nightmares assault him. Sometimes Khan is laughing at him; sometimes it’s just Jim in a body bag. The worst one is the one where Jim sits up in the bag, covered in blood.

“You couldn’t save me,” phantom Jim says accusingly, and when Leonard wakes up, it’s all he can do to hold still and not wake Jim. He doesn’t need Leonard’s melodrama on his plate, after all.

So the two of them work together, as they always have, picking up the pieces of their shattered selves. Leonard forces Jim to see a therapist, and the smile makes its way back to Jim’s face. Spock visits frequently, updating Jim on the repairs and playing chess until McCoy kicks him out and makes Jim rest.

Leonard begins to develop sleep paralysis. The hallucinations aren't pleasant, but at least he doesn’t wake Jim, who’s finally sleeping through the night. Leonard drinks coffee and dozes instead, ready to wake up in an instant if Jim needs him. This is how it is, how it’s always been, ever since the Academy. He takes care of Jim.

One night, however, it’s everything at once, and Jim is falling while Khan laughs and Spock just looks at him accusingly, and Leonard leaps down the abyss after him, and

And he’s woken up, sitting bolt upright before he can control himself, sweat breaking out on his face before he can rub it away. Jim’s awake too, dammit, and Leonard’s hoping he can brush this off.

“Bones?” Jim sounds suspicious. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, Jim. Go back to sleep.”

“Don’t be offended if I call bullshit on that one.” Jim sits up. “Do you want to talk?”

“It was nothing.”

“I have nightmares too, Bones. I know them when I see them.”

“I’m fine, Jim. I’ve no right anyway.” _Shit_.

Jim is looking at him incredulously. “Is that really what you think? Bones, I had no-”

“Of course you didn’t, Jim! I didn’t fucking want you to! What kind of person would I be if I put my own stupid problems on your plate? You have enough to deal with, I’m not going to shove my crap onto you!” He’s out of bed now, pacing furiously.

“How long has it been since you slept through the night?” Jim’s voice hardens. “Bones, you don’t have to be this shining, stoic prince of perfection all the time! You’re not a Vulcan, for God’s sake, and I wouldn’t want you to be!” He grabs Leonard’s wrist. “Let me help you. You brought me back from the dead, Bones; let me do this one thing.

“You haven't fallen asleep before me since we came home, and I’d put money on it that you don’t sleep at all five nights out of seven. You’re tired all the time, and I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I can’t see you. I’m alive, Bones. I may be broken, but I’m not dead anymore, and you need to stop worrying and rejoin me with the living.” Jim lays his hand on Leonard’s cheek.

“I love you, Bones. You are allowed to be affected by this. You are allowed to need help. I know you’re a doctor, I know you need to heal, but sometimes, someone needs to heal the healer. Let me help you.”

Leonard’s knees give way, and he sags wordlessly onto Jim’s shoulders. The two sink back onto the bed, Jim wrapping himself around Bones. Leonard's crying, now.

“I’m sorry, Jim. It’s just- every time I look at you, all I can see is that damn body bag, and I can’t fall asleep before you because I need to know you’re alive. You left me, you left me, and you can’t just _do that_ and leave no damage behind. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m…”

“Don’t apologize,” Jim murmurs into Bones’s neck. “It’s not your fault. Bones, you’re human. It’s okay.”

They stay like that for a while. Bones still can’t fall asleep.

“I’m not going to sleep until you do, Bones.” Jim says softly. “Put your hand around my wrist.”

Jim’s pulse beats there, and Leonard is lulled to sleep by that gentle rhythm.  The last thing he’s aware of is Jim’s lips pressed gently to his temple. Someone says ‘I love you’ just as he fades into oblivion.

In the morning, the ghost of a nightmare still occupies his mind. Jim kisses all his ghosts away.

**Author's Note:**

> credit where credit is due to [this askfic](http://ricechex.tumblr.com/post/64404435847) for inspiring the shaving scene in this fic.  
> thank you for reading! comments are always welcome and appreciated. :)


End file.
